


An Expected Guest

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Series: Jaime and Brienne and What We All Deserved [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Braime Bunch, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hint of Arya/Gendry, Hint of Sansa/Podrick, Oathfamily, Post canon, Slice of Life, Tarth, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: The Queen of the North arrives on Tarth, though perhaps more waits on her there than simply her dearest friend and the children she has come to see.





	An Expected Guest

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading these! :D :D The support has been overwhelming so far! 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think :)

“Why are we celebrating, father?” Joanna held tight to his left hand, though she was pulling away from him so much to investigate the open windows that showed the activities around the castle grounds. Wagons of food and spices were being rolled by courtesy of merchants who were setting up stalls and carts at the docks for the celebration.

“It is your sister’s second nameday,” Jaime explained, wondering which route it would be best to take with Joanna sure to be distracted. “Everyone is celebrating, though, because Queen Sansa is arriving any hour at the Harbor.”

“The Queen?” Joanna turned with wide-eyed wonderment, the same bright blue as Brienne’s.

Joanna could not have been more like her mother if she had tried, though she did share perhaps more of Jaime’s physical features. She was tall already and strongly built, preferred the comfort of breeches and tunics embroidered with lions and stars to the gowns that had been gifted to her as a small child. She could make her way though books already, enjoying the stories of the great conquerors of the age of heroes and the Knights who followed them into battle.

“The Queen of the North,” Jaime said, “It is an official envoy coming here to visit. She had been in Kings’ Landing visiting her brother, the King and after she will go to Storms Landing to see her sister.”

“King Bran the Broken of House Stark,” Joanna said dutifully, reciting her lessons.

“Yes, though I think you’ll find Queen Sansa to be a bit more…social than the King.” They had taken Joanna to court once, when Jaime had been officially named the heir of Casterly Rock by King Bran. Jaime would have been happy to never set foot in either the Capital or the Rock for the rest of his life, but Tyrion had written him privately asking if he would take it, if not for himself, then for his child. It was only after Joanna had been born that he had accepted, and an official summons had followed, Brienne pregnant with Catelyn at the time.

Bran had been welcoming, as much as he could have been, though Jaime noticed that he seemed to have become even more distant. Tyrion told him privately that much of his time was spent using his special powers of sight, though what he was monitoring was unknown to Tyrion or the rest of the small council. Joanna had enjoyed court well enough, but she had loved the white cloaks of the Kingsguard knights far more, and it had taken nearly all of Jaime’s energy to keep her from toddling through the training areas, scarcely at a height where she could be seen and not taken out by a stray sword.

“Are all of these people going to see the Queen?” She asked as they reached the end of the hall and he lifted her to where she could see the window, his own eyes searching for Brienne and the welcoming party. The answer, in truth, was no. Most were going to make money off of the people who were going to see the Queen, with wagons full of little more than rubbish to sell to passerbys.

“Yes,” He said, and pointed his arm out to a group of men shining their armor. “And I believe the Queen may have some suitors on the horizon.” What these young Lords hoped to do to impress a Queen was beyond Jaime. He had seen them fight, and very few could lift a sword properly, let alone court someone correctly.

“There’s mother and Cat,” Joanna said and pointed her finger in another direction.

“We had best go and join them, then,” And he shifted her in his arms, heading for the nearest stairwell.

“It is an honor to host you, Queen Sansa,” The Evenstar bowed to Sansa as she stepped from the boat, escorted by a man nearly of the same age as Brienne’s father. A Glover by the sigil carved in his leather breastplate, the new Master-of-Arms at Winterfell that Sansa had promised was coming to speak with Podrick about their new training program that trained both men and women for combat.

“It is an honor to be here, Lord Selwyn,” She curtsied appropriately.

“Queen Sansa,” Brienne had passed him Catelyn as the docks had arrived, and it was a good move as Sansa enveloped her in a hug.

“It is good to see you, Ser Brienne,” She said, and stepped back, still clasping Brienne’s forearms. “Ser Jaime,” She said and bowed her head. He wondered if she would ever forgive him for anything he had done to her family. He imagined not, but the ice in her gaze had softened towards him at the wedding, and at Bran’s formal coronation when they had been seated with her for many long hours around people that not months before they had been prepared to kill.

“Queen Sansa,” He said, “We’re excited you’re here.”

That was certainly true, Catelyn was squirming as much as any two-year old would with all of the excitement, her blonde curls shining from her recent bath and her bright green eyes transfixed by Sansa’s every movement as she stepped towards them. Joanna was hardly better, tugging at his fingers as she practically jumped away from her father, holding onto him by only her knowledge that it meant trouble if she did not.

Brienne reached down to take Joanna in her arms, allowing Jaime to shift Catelyn where she could not have to balance precariously to avoid his hook. “Queen Sansa, this is Joanna Lannister, our oldest and heir to Casterly Rock.”

Sansa stepped forward, and any hardness she had ever felt towards Jaime was gone from her face as she looked to his daughter, her mother’s blue eyes brightening in her face as she smiled. “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Joanna.”

Joanna blushed a deep red, her cheeks colored in the same pattern as Brienne’s, but she did not hide her face in Brienne’s tunic as she used to do. “And you, Queen Sansa.” She said softly instead, smiling in spite of her nervousness.

“And this is Catelyn Lannister, heir to Tarth.” Jaime had not read the private note that Sansa had given written Brienne after their daughter’s birth and announcement following. He had read her standard of congratulations to the pair of them, but knew that there had always been more to it when it came to Catelyn’s birth. To have this child, whom she was meeting for the first time, bear her Lady Mother’s name…Jaime was not unsure but could guess what that meant for the Queen.

“May I hold her?” She asked, and Jaime nodded, reaching her out carefully.

Sansa held her close, little Catelyn reaching for the silver wolf embroidered just below her throat next to a red-patterned Weirwood leaf. “She very much looks like you, Ser Jaime,” Sansa said softly, and though Jaime was almost worried it might have been a thinly veiled insult, he relaxed as her smile only grew. “Do you like my dress, Lady Catelyn?”

The baby gave a gibberished response, rubbing her fingers over the design before she looked up at Sansa and laughed a happy laugh.

“I think you will love the gifts I have brought for you and your sister, then.”

There was scarcely a moment that night when Sansa was not holding one of the two children. Her arrival at Evenfall Hall had been met with celebration like Jaime had not seen since Joanna had been born. Catelyn’s birth had been more difficult, with so much anxiety and pressure that though there had been ample celebration, there had also been an air of exhaustion about the castle. Tonight, however, there was only celebration. Jesters, dancers, fighters, archers, and others had come to Tarth to see the Queen of the North under the guise of celebrating the heir to the Isle.

Sansa watched them all with the same amount of polite interest, but her eyes were all for the children who dined with them at the front of the room. Lord Selwyn acknowledged that this trip was meant for his daughter and gave them a proper amount of space, heading the celebrations to allow Brienne time to visit. Jaime was unsure of his role as of now, and at the moment was simply avoiding drinking too much and ensuring that all of the Queen’s gifts were properly folded.

They were, as promised, stunningly beautiful. For Brienne a rich cloak embroidered with the sigil she and Jaime were using, a proud lion against the background of the moon and stars of Tarth. It was rich blue, the color of Brienne’s eyes, with bright red and gold threads. The fabric alone must have cost the same as a decent horse. For the girls had been a blanket for Catelyn to match the one she had had delivered for Joanna soon after her birth, the same blue fabric and embroidered sigil. But there were other gifts as well.

Jaime suspected Brienne had told Sansa of Joanna’s tendencies towards knighthood and included was a cloak the perfect size for a child to wear that bore the house sigil, though the clasps were tiny direwolves. Since it had been gifted, Jaime had been unable to convince his daughter to take it off and wondered vaguely if she planned to sleep in it. For Catelyn, there had been a new bedset. Not useful yet as she was still in her crib, but perfect for his first bed in the same deep reds and blues with Sansa’s own embroidery on the casings.

Catelyn was enamored with the Queen and even though she did not cry as her parents held her, she squirmed towards Sansa whenever she was near or could hear her voice. Jaime thought, judging by Sansa’s reactions, that the feeling was very much mutual.

There had been a gift for him as well, though he had not expected one. It had been an odd moment between them as she handed it to him, Brienne distracted fastening Joann’s cloak for her.

“In case you should forget yourself,” Sansa had said quietly and he had unwrapped the package to find a handkerchief embroidered with the outline of the castle of Winterfell as it had looked when he had arrived to fight alongside them. The battlements still standing, the Godswood tinged with red thread.

“Thank you,” He had said softly and folded it carefully into the pocket over his chest.

“I am worried about Sansa,” Brienne said to him, waiting patiently as he peeled a fruit to split over their bowls of morning porridge. He had been told to do things like this to improve both his dexterity and the his ability to use his hook, and – though there was perhaps a bit too much wasted by remaining stuck to the peel – he was accomplishing his task with relative ease after four years of practice.

“She seems to be well loved by her people,” Jaime said, holding back a small curse as he hit the pit of thr fruit for the second time. “And happy to be here.”

“I spoke with her Master-of-Arms. He says this trip is the first time she has been this happy since Arya departed for the west.”

“Arya is returned, now.”

“I fear she is lonely.”

Jaime turned his attention from his fruit and looked across the table to Brienne, her blue eyes dark with worry. He wanted to say something to gentle her fears, but he knew that she was correct in her assessment of Sansa’s behavior. They had a rare friendship, one that he did not have with anyone, save perhaps Tyrion and he wasn’t sure if that even counted given that they were related. “I would say you’re right,” Jaime said quietly, “But she does seem to be enjoying her trip here; perhaps she will find someone who’s company she enjoys.”

“I don’t think she was impressed by the hedge knights that attempted to court her yesterday.” Brienne said pointedly, and he could hear defensiveness flaring up in her voice as he finally sliced razor thin slices of their shared fruit into her bowl.

“I don’t mean a suitor necessarily,” He protested, “Perhaps just a friend.”

“Perhaps,” Said Brienne, and her face was flushed but apologetic for raising her voice towards him.

“For now, maybe it is simply best that she enjoy time with the girls.” Jaime wiped his hand on the damp rag on the table, clearing it of sticky residue. He paused a moment before eating, reaching his hand over to stroke hers gently. “We will help her as best we can,” He said, and she gave him a rare smile.

“Ser Podrick?” Jaime was so startled to see the Tarth Master-of-Arms in the guest wing of the castle that he could not help his exclamation of such. Podrick was hardly the boy that Jaime had sent to squire after Brienne to save his life. He stood tall now, and though he still had boyish features, he had grown out both his hair and beard until it covered his face well. He wore on his breastplate the new sigil of Tarth, a gift from Brienne after she had knighted him. He took his job seriously and had taken the time to learn more of the sea tactics common for the soldiers of Tarth in addition to what he already knew.

But underneath all of that was still Podrick, who Jaime believed might have loved Brienne best if he didn’t hold that title selfishly to his own chest. The reverence he had for her was clear in everything he did, from the training of her men to the private work with their daughter who had insisted on her own sword by age four. He was kind, and his face was kind. His own family lineage, stained with the likes of those like Ilyn Payne, left well behind him in the life that Podrick had chosen to abandon for this.

But there was rarely a reason for the master-of-arms to be in this part of the castle, particularly so late in the evening. Perhaps if he was meeting with Winterfell’s Master-of-Arms, but Jaime knew for a fact that the old man was still in the Great Hall, talking with some of the knights he had befriended before their departure on the morrow. Podrick was not with the knights, but rather with Sansa, standing far closer than Jaime had seen Sansa stand to many people. She was handing him something small, folding his fingers over it.

“Goodnight, Ser Podrick. Ser Jaime.” The Queen did not look at him before disappearing into her chambers.

“Hello, my Lord,” Podrick said, and looked at Jaime with a look that told him absolutely nothing. “Did you or Ser Brienne have need of me?”

“No,” Jaime said, still trying to reason his way through this. “Goodnight, Pod.”

“Goodnight, My Lord.” And the knight passed by him, hand still tight around whatever Sansa had given him.

Catelyn cried in Jaime’s arms as they stood and watched the last of the Winterfell party board their boat leaving for Storm’s End. Joanna was scarcely in better shape, but was trying to hold it together as she wrapped herself in her cloak. Lord Selwyn was further down the beach with the small group of sailors he was sending to accompany them safely and then make their return. On Jaime’s side today, however, stood Podrick with what Jaime had noticed was a new handkerchief embroidered with the red outlines of Weirwood leaves tucked into a pouch against his armor.

“Are you going to be leaving for Winterfell then, Ser Podrick?” He had asked him that morning.

“The Queen and I have spoken the last few nights, Ser Jaime.” Podrick had said evenly back, “I had thought to remain in contact with her.”

And now he stood in the harbor, her favor tucked against his chest. But he walked away soon after the boat has departed, herding Joanna back towards the castle as Jaime turned to Brienne, lowering her arm from waving.

“I do hope she will be all right.” She said, reaching down to take Jaime’s hand as Catelyn rested her head on his shoulder, exhausted from crying and all of the excitement of the past several days.

He watched Podrick walk with their daughter, the gentle way he spoke as he soothed her missing Sansa and the warriors of Winterfell who had departed. “I think she may be all right after all.”

Brienne looked at him strangely, but the simply smiled. Some secrets were not his to tell.


End file.
